Insomnia
by HopelessSerenity
Summary: Light just wants to sleep... ---Rated T for mild language, no intended pairing, but interpret as you will---


He hated him.

He absolutely _hated _that man.

And hate was such a strong word.

There had to be a more powerful word in his astounding genius vocabulary than just hate... There had to. Something, _anything_, better than the overused expression that was "hate". Disgust? Revulsion? Loathing?

Light rolled to his side, those damned handcuffs jingling is the early morning silence. The brunette growled in irritation and slammed the pillow over his ears.

The clicking of the keyboard beside him ceased. No doubt the other was amused at his overly theatrical actions.

Calm enveloped the room for fifteen glorious seconds. If he could just get to sleep within that short expanse of time, maybe there was hope for a few hours of blissful unawareness before the rest of the task force arrived in the morning. He could do it. His willpower was unmatched, after all. He'd _make_ himself sleep. Light relaxed his muscles, finally feeling the edges of a much needed siesta tug at his consciousness...

The clicking resumed. The young man yanked his eyes open.

Damn that man. Damn him.

Light could just picture him. He would be crouching his quirky way, the laptop poised perilously on his skeletal knees, rocking dangerously this way and that at every strike of the spacebar, the reflection of the screen on his dilated eyes, that childish grin spread on his ghastly pale face as he annoyed the younger man to no end... And he knew it. Oh, he certainly knew how much he interrupted Light's mandatory beauty slumber.

No.

No, Light would not give the man the satisfaction of the seeing his annoyance for a second time. He refused to drop to such a despicable level. He slammed his eyes shut.

The loud typing continued with the occasional Shift or Tab key clearly recognizable against the dead quiet.

Regardless of the brunette's "supposed" inattentiveness, the other man would prolong his infuriating behavior. He had speedily distinguished exactly how to manipulate the young man in the months that Light had let his guard down. He wasn't Kira then and he had come to trust the world's greatest detective, albeit world's most frustrating detective. The Yotsuba corporation took center stage, and that was that. He wasn't afraid... No, "afraid" was certainly not the right word to use. He wasn't... He momentarily cycled through viable alternatives. He wasn't _perturbed_, yes that was much better, with displaying his emotions to the odd character. The other man was exceedingly aware that his actions would pick slowly and methodically at Light's sanity. What was worse was that he was damn good at it.

_Tap, tap_, _click, click, clack, clack._

He was such a nuisance. The sooner Rem would off him from the face of the earth, the better. It was... impossible, scientifically unfeasible (he would prove it later) to be as exasperating as the detective. Being shackled to him with only a few feet of slack was bad enough; having to share the same bed was almost unbearable. Light had quickly snubbed the idea of leaving his arm dangling off the edge of a single bed while he slept. Waking with a dead-weight attached to his shoulder was not his idea of starting the day. The itchy, painful, mind-numbing sensation of the nerve-pathways in his limbs resurrecting with his brain ruthlessly hampered his intellectual capabilities.

_Tap, tap_, _click, click, clack, clack._

He had to keep his naive front. But he had to _sleep. _Could the detective even conceive such a thing? It was all up to Rem. Light could do nothing, at least for the moment.

"Ryuzaki..." the young man mumbled sleepily.

The typing stopped.

"Yes, Yagami-kun?"

Light could imagine him, crouching there still amused with that damn sickly little grin painted across his features. He could hear the poorly concealed sing-song flicker of victory in his voice as he innocently replied.

"If you got a few hours of sleep every night, you might just look a little more credible as the "World's Greatest Detective", don't you think?"

"Light-kun has forgotten that my appearance does not matter in this particular line of work," he quickly countered.

Knowing the pale man, he would have already conjured a response everything Light said.

He was a thorn in the God of the New World's side. That was sin; Light would make it so in his newly revised Ten Commandments. The detective was a sinner, a criminal! He rotated his head to look at the man, replacing the pillow under it. Light paused, briefly realizing that if the laptop had been dark, he could have easily mistaken the insipid individual as a ghostly apparition.

"Those unsightly bags under your eyes might vanish after a while. Even you could have a chance with the ladies if you tried at it, Ryuzaki."

The detective chewed his thumb, mulling over Light's statement. His eyes locked on what seemed to be a very interesting fold of sheets as he fiddled with his toes.

"Only Kira would advocate the incapacitation of L. And that can only mean that Light-kun is Kira..." he whispered, intentionally loud enough for the younger man to hear.

Light hated him.

He despised him.

There, that was a finer synonym. He tucked it away for future reference.

He sighed, not engaging the obvious ruse. "Incapacitation? _Uninterrupted _sleep can be very enjoyable, Ryuzaki. A quick snooze or two throughout the day have proven benefits for the body," he shrugged. "Improved reasoning capabilities, enhanced memory, and quicker reactions just to name a few."

The detective tugged at his lower lip. "Is Light-kun suggesting that I am... incompetent?"

"You're hopeless," Light grumbled, rolling his eyes and shifting back to his side with a sigh.

The other man glanced in the brunette's direction, still nibbling his thumb noiselessly in thought, to the laptop, to the digital clock by the younger man's side, and back to the sheets. _3:48 AM_. A moody Light was... He scratched his ankle with a foot. A more entertaining Light. Or would Kira would be more appropriate? Either way, if the detective was forced to be parted from his multi-million dollar CPU set-up in the main lobby, so should the younger man from his slumber. He did have an abnormal attachment to such... _unnecessary_ _operations_.

"Sorry," he impassively answered, resuming his provocative typing.

_Tap, tap, click, click, clack, clack._

.

AN - I'd really appreciate any reviews of comments. Any tips for improving would be great. Thanks for reading :)


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